


The One Where Dave Gets Hungry

by eighth_chiharu



Series: The One Where Dave's a Vampire [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood, Gen, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-22 15:19:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 32
Words: 8,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7444141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eighth_chiharu/pseuds/eighth_chiharu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that Rose has joined Dave in taking care of his adopted brother, 9-year-old Dirk, things are going pretty smoothly. That is, until Dave's food order doesn't come in, and there's no blood in sight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. found you

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Vampire AU](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/212626) by http://eighthchiharu.tumblr.com/. 



> This work was originally posted on tumblr, in an attempt to utilize the site's unique format to create a new type of daily story-telling. Because the parts of the story were posted once a day for 4 weeks, the chapters in this collection will vary greatly in length and style. Please be patient with it, it may take some getting used to. :)

  * Alpha Dave has never had what you’d call a spectacularly steady existence, but with Dirk, he craves normalcy even more – and gets it.
  * With Rose’s daytime help, running errands when Dave can’t, or helping Dirk until Dave can wake up, the three of them are making this work.
  * Dave thinks he may just have found the closest thing to Heaven his kind can have.
  * Until the weekly blood delivery from the carniceria three blocks away doesn’t show up. Rose says no-one has come to the apartment during the day, but she’ll stay later to watch Dirk while Dave goes to check things out.
  * He’s barely in the store's door when the new manager starts grinning at him from behind the meat counter. The old manager was an awesome Mexican guy with short dark hair and deep laugh lines. The new one is tall, blond, and has way too many teeth.
  * Dave stops walking. He has never felt as stupid as he does in this moment.
  * “So, that’s our great-great-great-blah-blah grandnephew, huh? Guess I owe you a big thanks for keeping tabs on our dad’s spawn. You don’t mind if I come see the little bugger, do ya? He looks delicious.”




	2. bested

  * Bro has been busy. Bro has been stealthy. There isn’t a butcher shop or an animal hospital that hasn’t heard from him, in one way or another.
  * Bro is charismatic, handsome, persuasive. People listen. Normal people, honest people, even people with agendas.
  * Dave doesn’t fight. He could never fight Bro in a store full of people, a city full of witnesses. He turns and runs home, fear gripping him in a way it hasn’t done since the night he was turned.
  * When he bursts in, Rose is there, her arms around Dirk, a book in the boy’s lap. Both are safe. Both are worried.
  * Dave can’t tell them he hasn’t eaten yet.
  * He can’t tell them that he’s already getting hungry.
  * “I’m… gonna turn in. I know, it’s early, but it’s – can you stay over, Rose? Watch Dirk? Thanks. No, I’m fine, I just want to – well, thanks.”




	3. slowly descending

  * Dave spends the night keeping calm and making phone calls around town. There’s got to be a veterinary service or a rancher or a supermarket somewhere that Bro hasn’t visited yet. But there isn’t.
  * He tries again, this time with old contacts and friends that owe him favors. Half of them don’t answer. The other half aren’t even in the state anymore. Only one tells him they aren’t strong enough to go against Bro.
  * This would be so much easier if he drank human blood.
  * Rose puts Dirk to bed before she leaves. Dave keeps up his increasingly desperate search until the sun rises. The weight of its weak gray light pulls at him, heavy and painful. Without blood, it’s hard to stay awake.
  * He does it anyway. There’s a routine, and Dirk needs routine. He gets the kid up, makes sure his school uniform is out, gets his breakfast stuff ready.
  * Dirk eats his cereal without the usual morning chatter, clearly suspicious. The tiny crunch-and-smack noises seem to echo into the silence, drilling into Dave’s ears, taunting him. Food, food, food. God, even from here Dirk smells so fucking _good_ -
  * “Can you walk yourself to the bus stop, kiddo? I’m not feeling that great. No worries, I’ll be fine. Rose will be here when you get home, just in case.”




	4. before dawn

“Hey, sweet cheeks. Is it true you work for that blond guy upstairs?”

Rose pauses at the crosswalk on her way home, a disapproving frown already in place. She shifts all her bags to one hand and turns to face the doubtlessly male owner of the voice, acidic words on her tongue. “Please don’t ever address me or so much as look at me again, or else the police will…”

Her mouth falls open. It’s _Dave_.

“Surprise.” The man grins, and she looks harder. No, not Dave. A bigger version of Dave. Older. This one’s shoulders are broad, his hair styled differently. He wears triangular sunglasses straight out of the 1980s, the lenses reflecting the headlights of the cars that hiss by on the dark street. 

“Who are you? What do you want?” She sneaks a hand inside one of her bags, feeling for the pepper spray she keeps there.

His smile lessens, becoming something sly. “I’m Dave’s brother. Ambrose. You won’t have heard of me. He and I have a… _thing_ going on.” He shrugs, his smile affable now, inviting her to share in the commonality of family drama.

She doesn’t take the bait. “That’s none of my business,” she says shortly. “If you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be.”

She reaches out and presses the WALK button, and the man – Ambrose – steps closer. His hands are in his jeans pockets, but even with his hands tucked away, she knows he could hurt her.

He clicks his tongue. “Don’t be like that. I just wanted to warn you. I mean, a smart bitch like you? You gotta have noticed how weird he is. Don’t you wonder why?” 

His smile darkens, but she’s not sure whether it’s the shadows from the changing lights, or the sudden absence of any cars on the road. He’s too close. Where’s that damn spray? 

“Your employer, Miss Rose –” He ignores her glare as he says her name. “ – is a vampire.”


	5. seek it out

It’s the stupidest thing Rose has ever heard, and as an aspiring witch, she’s heard a lot. Vampires don’t exist, everyone knows that. They died out long ago, during the Great Hunts of 1400 BC. There can’t be one living in an apartment in sunny Texas, let alone living with a human child in the middle of a busy city. It’s just… _stupid_.  
  
But the idea eats at her.

The apartment is quiet when she lets herself in later that morning, pocketing the key and making extra sure to lock the door in case Brother Dear shows up. Dave is probably asleep, since his door is shut, but how can she be sure? She thinks about creeping up to it and listening at it, but that’s as pointless as her speculation. She can’t hear breathing through a door, and she has no desire to hear other sounds one might make in private. Still… maybe there are clues to be found.

She snoops.  
  
The kitchen cupboards, the hall closet, the bathroom. She cleans as she goes so she has an excuse for emptying every single drawer and shelf, wiping it all down. Even Dirk’s room doesn’t escape her attentions. Her search is as thorough as it is fruitless, and by the afternoon, her patience with herself is thin.  
  
Stupid. There are no vampires anymore. So what if Dave works nights? So what if he’s allergic to the sun? If he can’t go outside during the day, then of course he’d be nocturnal. That presumptuous asshole of a brother played her for a fool last night, and she fell for it.  
  
Exasperated, she takes her cleaning supplies back to the kitchen, deciding to prepare Dirk’s snack. It’s already three; he’ll be home soon. She gets out a plate, opens the refrigerator - and stops, shocked.  
  
The inside of the machine is a _disaster._ A food murder scene. The shelves are cockeyed, the glass bottles shattered. Jam and barbecue sauce are splattered over the inside, winking fragments stuck to the racks. The bread is torn, soft top smashed flat, and almost every plastic container is cracked, margarine and peanut butter smeared with chocolate sauce over the fridge’s white walls as if some Lilliputian lunatic had been confined there overnight. Only the milk is still intact, safe in its little jug.  
  
She doesn’t know what to do. If it was Dirk, she should confront him, get him to talk about whatever’s still bothering him. If it was Dave…   
  
Rose shakes her head. People get angry sometimes. Whoever did this, it’s just one incident. She’ll take care of it for now, and if it happens again, well. Then they’ll have a little chat.  
  
She puts the plate back and drags the trash can over. This is what the universe has given her for sneaking around like a thief. She deserves this, perhaps, but she doesn’t think Dirk does. She needs to clear it away before he gets back.  
  
It’s not until she’s halfway through the cleanup that she notices that every single meat item is missing.


	6. getting late

  * Dave wakes up to knocking. For a brief moment, he thinks it’s his mother. It’s a struggle to remember she’s long dead, and it’s Rose who’s calling him.
  * The sun is gone. He hasn’t slept until sunset in years. He’s disoriented, hollow. He goes to the bedroom door, every movement graceless and stiff.
  * Both Rose and Dirk are visibly anxious. Dave can hear their hearts, normally white noise in the background, now drumbeats that can’t be ignored. Dirk’s is fast and light, Rose’s has a skip to it. The sound drowns out their speech, makes blatant how warm they are, how they thrum with hot, liquid life. Dave’s mouth waters.
  * Dirk throws his arms around Dave’s waist, hugging him tight. His voice trembles when he asks if Dave will play with him, and guilt twists Dave up. He haltingly smooths the boy’s hair down, then leans back to avoid Rose as she tries to touch his forehead.
  * He should run. Bro’s put them in danger. Dave needs to leave, needs to find somewhere to feed before it’s too late. It’s been two days.
  * But Dirk needs him, too.
  * “… all right. Just for a little bit. Which game?" 




	7. number game

Three is a powerful number. Three encompasses beginning, middle, and end. Three means complete.  
  
On the morning of the third day that Dave has been ill, Rose packs her bag carefully, choosing the items that will be of most use to her in a variety of situations. Basil, rose attar, verbena; her knitting, her silver knife, her gem-studded jewelry. She suspects that whatever strange affliction Dave suffers from, whether his boorish brother told the truth or not, things will come to a head this evening.  
  
On her way out the door, she feels a tug, and stops by her small shrine to the Goddess. She prays for peace, for a calm resolution, but she prepares for violence. She receives no answer.


	8. count down

  * Dave has the air conditioner up too high. Dirk complains, but Dave doesn’t relent. The freezing cold helps reduce the human scent that permeates the entire building. If he has to smell that all morning, he might do a fucking pirouette off the nearest surface, fly into the sun and re-enact Icarus on a spectacularly bad day.
  * Rose arrives. Something about her makes him uneasy. She feels… different. He stays away from her, retreating to his room the moment she takes Dirk to meet the bus.
  * Pain spurs him into consciousness. He doesn’t remember being asleep. His skin feels tight, pinched, like barely-remembered sunburns.
  * He tries to think past the hunger and the soreness. There are stray animals on the streets. Cats, dogs. Rats. They’re barely a mouthful, but even a mouthful would be miraculous. If he went now, he could hunt, get a taste –
  * Dirk is outside the door again. It’s two hours until bedtime, will Dave come play with him?
  * Dave bites his lip to keep back a despairing laugh. 
  * “… be right there, kiddo." 




	9. *five*

  * They’re on the sofa again. Dirk is beside him, deliciously warm, his hip touching Dave’s. He smells like comfort. Like home cooking. Like need and satisfaction together.
  * Dave puts his arm around the kid, pulling him closer. Dirk smiles shyly, glancing at Dave before continuing his turn at the video game they’re playing.
  * Rose’s knitting needles clack dully, background noise. Her bracelets clink against each other, soft metallic ringing.
  * Dave ignores her. He buries his face in Dirk’s soft hair. He rubs a cheek against the boy’s head, inhaling more of that wonderful fragrance. Carefully, like a toddler sneaking a cookie, he presses a kiss to the natural part in Dirk’s hair. The thin line of exposed skin tastes vaguely of salt. He wants to taste it again.
  * “You can go if you want, Rose. I can take it from here.”




	10. clear and present

She ceases knitting, her birch needles falling silent. The dark yarn hangs from the wands, trembling slightly.

“Are you sure?”

Dave looks up, the ever-present sunglasses still in place despite it being long past sundown. Maybe it’s the low lights in the living room, but his cheekbones seem to protrude more. His skin is tight, the same jaundiced tone as the shaded light bulbs. He looked sick yesterday; tonight it’s worse.

His hand tightens on Dirk’s shoulder. Dirk leans into him, pleased at all the attention after so little in the past couple days.

“I don’t mind staying until he’s in bed,” she adds, feigning nonchalance even as the overwhelming sense of wrong pushes at her aura. The amethyst in her silver bracelets flashes a confirmation warning, and she has to use all her composure to keep her heartbeat slow, her breath even.

If Dave’s what his brother claimed, she can’t afford to lose this opportunity. There’s the child to consider, but he won’t be a problem. As his caretaker, she’s sworn to protect him, and once he’s safe, she’ll have her chance.

“To be frank, David, you look awful. You ought to take better care of yourself. Go get some rest. I’ll watch Dirk.”


	11. *four*

  * Anger flares, instant and devouring. How dare she. Dirk is his. _His._
  * Before he can answer, Dirk scoots closer, lower lip pushed out in a pout. The boy is clingy and stubborn. He wants to stay with Dave.
  * Bro’s smirk appears on Dave’s face. It’s amazing how easily it slides into place, greasy and prideful. Dave gloats over Dirk’s head at the meddling babysitter. He contemplates pulling Dirk into his lap just to rub it in. Dirk’s scent is irresistible.
  * “It’s _Dave,_ and we’re fine. You can _go._ ”




	12. tread lightly

Malice fills the room like a fog. She didn’t expect it, she didn’t realize he was so close to the edge. She’d imagined she had another hour at least. She curses her assumption. The sheer power behind the anger startles her, forcing her to rethink her position.

She may be out of her depth.

Not that that’s ever stopped her before. She didn’t acquire the Book of Silence by backing down. She didn’t gain a Seer’s skill by slacking off. Dirk’s safety comes first, yes, but she’s ready to provide that - and so much more. She just has to be careful, clever.

She sighs and gets to her feet, feigning calm as she folds her knitting over itself, keeping the bundle of needles and yarn in one tense hand. Her other hand drops to her pocket, closing over the mix of herbs there. Master of pockets, master of secrets, that’s Rose.

“All right. But it’s late. Let’s at least get him into bed. He has school tomorrow.”

Dave’s smile is nothing like it’s ever been before. It’s not even a smile now. It’s a baring of teeth, teeth that are too long and too sharp. The power in the room thickens, prickling her skin like tiny biting ants.

Dirk looks between Dave and Rose, then echoes her sigh. He sets down his controller, sulky but obedient. He stands - but Dave grabs his arm.


	13. *three*

  * She’s trying to stop him. Joke’s on her. Dave’s closer. Faster. This woman – this witch – she’s nothing.
  * Part of him, the part that’s almost buried beneath hunger and desperation, screams for him to stop. Not humans, he swore it, not Dirk –
  * _“Mine.”_




	14. diplomatic breakdown

It’s a growl, a snarl. Dirk’s eyes widen at the sound. He tries to look behind him, but Dave has his upper arm in a vise. Dirk pulls, trying to free himself from a grip so tight it’s turning Dirk’s skin white, but it’s impossible. He whimpers, frightened gaze shooting to Rose, pleading.

_Shit._

“Let him go, Dave,” she says, her voice steady despite the adrenaline that floods her body. She grounds herself as best she can, drawing magic from the air, from the far-away earth. The prickling intensifies, sharper, crackling against her like electricity. It caresses her, raises her skirt, her hair, on an unseen breeze. “You don’t want this.”


	15. *two*

  * She’s wrong. He wants it more than anything. He yanks Dirk backward.
  * The boy topples onto the sofa with a cry. Fear explodes off him, sour and sweet. He says Dave’s name like a question.




	16. temet nosce

“Dave!” Rose takes a step forward, her knitting raised in front of her, the herbs in her clenched fist. Magic burns in her blood, she can’t hold it much longer.

Maybe she made a mistake. Maybe he’s stronger than she was led to believe. Maybe she should have destroyed him like his brother said, instead of trying to use him.

Doesn’t matter. Unlike Dave, she knows what she wants.

“Back off, now!”


	17. *one*

  * He lunges. Skin pops like a grape - blood spills over his tongue -




	18. *zero*

  * \- and the divine taste of life abruptly curdles, soured by acidic bitterness and scalding magic.
  * Dave recoils in confusion, gagging. Something flaky sticks to his tongue.
  * Rose’s arm is between him and Dirk. Her heart hammers incredibly fast, and the air around her crackles with the same burnt smell of a summer lightning storm. Blood drips from puncture wounds on the meaty part of her thumb. There are crumbs of dried herbs dusting her palm.
  * Dirk stares over Rose’s arm at Dave, his smell a taunt Dave can’t ignore.
  * His entire being swells with frustration, but before he can move, Rose’s birch knitting needles are against his chest, the pointed ends ready to make double puncture wounds of their own.
  * “I told you to back _off_ , Dave Strider. You’ve made it this far; don’t make me end you.”




	19. lay it out

“I don’t want to, but I will.”

It’s not a threat, it’s a fact, but it’s still amazing to her that he hesitates, even if that was exactly what was supposed to happen. For all her magic, all her knowledge, sometimes her better plans tend to go astray.

She doesn’t have time to dwell on her success. It’s only because Dave’s weakened that she’s able to use magic to outmaneuver him. If it wasn’t for his food source problem, she’d be dead on the floor beside Dirk, both of then drained and tossed away like human CapriSun pouches.

“I don’t want to do it,” she continues quickly, still careful to keep the pressure against his ribs. “I didn’t come here to hurt you. But you were about to kill your brother.”

Dirk makes a watery sound between protest and disbelief, as if he’s on the verge of tears but still ready to ride to Dave’s defense. Like any child that’s been raised with love, he can’t believe he was truly in danger, or that he still is.

She both envies and pities him.

“He’s only a child. You’re in pain, I understand that. If you’ll listen to me, we can solve all of our problems tonight, you and me both - without any of us dying.”

He pulls his sunglasses off stiffly, as if the motion hurts. He stares at her. His irises are as red as fresh blood, but the skin around them is sunken. His teeth are brilliantly white, the canines hypodermic-sharp.

“… you can’t help me.”

She stares back, and after a moment, she very deliberately rolls her eyes. “Men. You think you know everything.” He shifts, impatient, and she pushes the needle points against him, harder. “ _Listen_. If you drink human blood, there’s a man on the second floor, apartment 214. He beats his wife every Tuesday with a piece of rubber hose. And if you drink animal blood -” She jerks her head toward the south. “- there’s an animal shelter run by the city six blocks from here. They perform euthanasia tomorrow on the unadoptables. The cages have yellow tags.”

Dave watches her, his brow furrowing. “… why are you doing this?”

Rose doesn’t move. “To protect Dirk. To save you. And I want some knowledge. But not until after you’ve fed. You have someone who needs to see that you’re all right.”

His eyes flick to the side, past her to Dirk. They sit in tense silence, Rose’s magically-stirred hair the only movement – and then Dave is gone, over the back of the couch and out a suddenly open window. The cold breeze rushes in, and Rose sags against the cushions, the magic spilling out of her and dissipating into the supports of the building.

“Well,” she murmurs, partially to Dirk and partially to herself, “I think we could both use a drink, don’t you? No pun intended.”


	20. take it in

  * The air is frigid, the icy air bracing, punishing. He only feels it because he’s weak, but in this moment, he’s glad to feel anything.
  * The witch didn’t lie. There’s an animal shelter exactly where she said, and it comes into view within minutes of leaving the apartment. If he’d been himself, he might’ve remembered it was here. Saved himself what was almost the biggest fuckup of his existence.
  * He breaks the lock on the roof hatch and drops inside unhindered. No wards, no guards. So Bro hasn’t bothered with this one, probably because he remembered something else: Dave doesn’t kill.
  * Time breaks every promise.
  * He finds the video cameras and rips them from their mounts. They can’t see him - vampires don’t show up on film - but they can see the dogs. He doesn’t want any witnesses to what he’s about to do.
  * The animals in the back sense him coming. The sick ones, the sad ones, they stay still. The violent ones raise their hackles, give loud, snapping barks.
  * “I’m sorry. I’ll make it quick.”




	21. lost boy

It’s too cold to leave the window open, but Dirk is almost frantically insistent. He’s read Peter Pan, and even if he did think it was baby shit at first, now the lessons there seem to hold serious meaning. It doesn’t matter to him that Dave almost attacked him - did attack him, would have harmed him if not for Rose - it only matters that Dave is in trouble and might be lost. Dave needs all the help Dirk can give him.   
  
The window stays open so Dave can find his way home.

Rose doesn’t fight Dirk about it. She proposes a compromise that the window be drawn three-quarters of the way shut, with plenty of room for Dave to call to them if he wants. Dirk agrees reluctantly. She worries briefly about other things that might find their way in an open window, but vampires need an invitation, and a bit of salt and sage will discourage anything else. 

She tells Dirk to wash up and put on his warmest pjs while she treats the small bites on her hand with blessed water and verbena, then covers them with Transformer Band-Aids from the bathroom. When both she and Dirk have their preparations finished, they settle onto the couch to wait for Dave.

It’s then the questions come.

_Is Dave really a vampire? Does he really drink blood? Are you gonna turn into a vampire? Will you be okay? Where did he go? Is he gonna hurt those animals? Will he come home before I go to bed? Is he mad at me? He’s coming back, right?_

As a babysitter, she’s used to the barrage, but not the topic. They aren’t really her answers to give, it’s between Dave and Dirk, but for the sake of her charge, she tries. She feels like the exposition in a cheap vampire movie. Fright Night III, starring Dave Strider and Rose Lalonde. It’s so ridiculous it almost sounds plausible.

The phone rings in the middle of her age-appropriate explanation about the animals. Dirk gasps and darts to the desk, snatching up the plastic wireless receiver before Rose can even get to her feet. She’s tired from her exertions, and already sore. Human muscles aren’t made to move as quickly as she did; she’s going to really feel it tomorrow.

“Who is it?” she asks as she levers herself off the couch, slightly annoyed that telemarketers have made her get up.

Dirk listens, then frowns, puzzled. He doesn’t bother to cover the mouthpiece when he holds it out to her. “Some guy who says he’s my Uncle Ambrose. He wants to talk to Dave. Should I tell him he’s not here?”


	22. kiddie speak

Rose has that look that grown-ups get when you mess up.

  1. Mouth tight like she ate a super sour patch kid.
  2. One eye trying not to squint.
  3. Thinking about what to say, since if you can’t say something nice, you shouldn’t say anything at all.



I can’t take it back, though. I said it, and this guy heard it. I don’t know why it was bad to say that Dave isn’t here, because he isn’t, but oh, well. I don’t feel that bad about it. I didn’t even know I had an Uncle Ambrose. I had an Uncle Mike once, but he died. Mum cried a lot.

I try not to remember that Dave might not come back, either.

“I mean, he’s busy,” I say into the phone, hoping that will make Rose happy. Maybe this uncle will buy it, too. Thinking fast, I add the Ultimate Excuse: “He’s in the bathroom.”

Rose rubs her face with her hand. Maybe that was wrong, too.


	23. boxed in

She moves quicker than she thought she could, palm out in the universal _You Give That To Me Right Now_ gesture.  
  
Dirk doesn’t hand it over. He’s quiet, suddenly scowling at nothing so fiercely Rose is afraid he might suffer apoplexy.  
  
“If you’re my uncle, why are you _lying_? He’s coming back!”

She snatches it out of his hand, pushing his arm down. Whatever that no-account is telling him, it’s not something the child needs to hear. “What do you want, Mr Strider? Actually, never mind telling me, because whatever it is, you can’t have it. Go away.”  
  
“Relax, babe.” Ambrose’s rich, velvety chuckle filters through the phone as if he’s right beside her. The sound moves in a strange way, slower somehow, intimately caressing the curve of her ear. “I just wanna see my nephew. Is that a sin where you come from?”  
  
“I think you know all about sin.” Rose’s skin crawls, and her entire being tries to recoil from the receiver. His closeness is false, it has to be one of his powers, but it’s still invasive, revolting. “You can’t come in.”  
  
His good humor isn’t the least bit diminished. His voice is liquid, alluring. “Well, that’s your opinion. We’ll see if you’re right.”  
She bristles, actually holding the handset away from her. “Stop that. I revoke any access you have to this home. You are not invited.”  
  
“Mm, yeah, I can see you’re gonna be pretty hard-ass about that. But ya know what?” He’s grinning, she can tell. That stupid shit-eating grin of his. Goddess, he’s such an asshole. “You’re not the one living there. Ain’t up to you, bitch.”  
  
The line clicks and goes dead, the dial tone buzzing in her ear. She slams the thing back into its holder. _That self-absorbed, asinine, overbearing piece of filth -_  
  
“Hey, little man~!”  
  
She spins around, startled. Dirk grabs her hand, whispers her name.  
  
Ambrose stands outside the 20th storey window, his hands in his pockets, as relaxed and breeze-ruffled as if he’s on a yacht somewhere calm and sunny. His stupid ‘90s sunglasses are still on, his Blockbuster Video polo shirt tucked neatly into his jeans. He smiles, and it’s almost beguiling.  
  
“Wow, you got big, kiddo. Wanna let me in? Got some news about your big bro.”


	24. afterglow

  * Dave shuts the shelter’s rooftop door and doesn’t look back. He doesn’t want to be reminded of what he’s done. It’ll be all over the news soon enough anyhow.
  * He takes off his shirt, balls it up in one hand. Coming home drenched in blood like some kind of movie monster sounds like a huge mistake.
  * The night wind is different now that he’s full. Full of blood, full of warmth, full of remorse. He can almost feel the stars’ light on his bare skin, and even the constant stroking of air in motion is miraculous.
  * God, he feels _good_.
  * He considers bringing Dirk out when he gets back. Showing the kid how great it can be out here, and that he doesn’t have to be afraid of what Dave is, or what happened. They can still be together, and it’ll be perfectly safe. This was just… a silly mistake.
  * The apartment swings into sight, the little red lights that warn airplanes about the cell tower on top winking at him happily. He dips down, ready to land on the iron fire escape, but there’s someone already there. Dirk? Oh jeeze, he hopes the kid isn’t –
  * “ _You_ –?! What the fuck are _you_ doing here?!”




	25. taunt button

Sometimes, Rose wishes her Seer powers worked on their own instead of having to be called.

She’d considered the possibility of Dave showing up while Bro was at the window, of course she had. She’s not an idiot. But she’d dismissed it just as quickly, sure that Dave would take hours to return. She’d imagined him getting in barely ahead of sunset, crawling in the window with some kind of boyish look of happiness, or at least without those 90 degree cheekbones. Maybe praising her a little for her forethought. Asking her how he could repay her.

The normal shit.

Instead, the man who epitomizes the Asshole Older Brother trope is smirking at Dave as if he’s the funniest thing on Earth. He probably used to shoot rats, and tie cans to cats’ tails just to watch them panic.

Dirk shouts Dave’s name and runs to the window. Rose grabs him around the waist, yanking him back just in time. “No! Stay here. You can’t go out there, it’s dangerous. Do you understand?”

Her charge stills, worry almost like fear on his young face. Who is that other person? They have to open the window. They have to let Dave inside!

“He’ll be in in a moment,” Rose says, though she isn’t sure of that at all. She keeps hold of Dirk with one hand and tugs the blinds all the way up with the other, exposing the night sky, the glow of the city’s lights, the smug man on their balcony – and Dirk’s older brother, pale and shirtless, hovering about fifteen feet away of the right-hand corner of the fire escape.

“Glad you could make it,” Bro drawls. His voice is normal now. Deep and self-satisfied, but not velvety, not seductive. “The rugrat is kinda cute. Why don’t ya tell ‘im t’ let me in, and we can all have a play date?”

Dave’s hands become fists.

Tugging at Rose’s hold, Dirk tries to reach the window again. He calls out to Dave.

Bro glances over his shoulder at them and smiles wider.


	26. outmaneuvered

  * Slow Motion Moments are for action movies and cheesy After-School Specials. Dave doesn’t need slo-mo, he has preternatural speed and vampiric grace. He’s like the fucking Flash when he wants to be.
  * Time drags anyway, uncaring that it’s clichéd and overused, and Dave watches the next four seconds unfold without being able to stop them.
  * Rose pushes Dirk behind her. She reaches into her pocket, words Dave can’t understand forming on her lips.
  * Dirk darts past with the slippery movements of the very young. He thrusts his small, bare arm beneath the window sash, through the opening that’s too small for anyone but him.
  * Hand outstretched in the night air, he shouts Dave’s name.
  * Even with all his renewed power, Dave is helpless.
  * Bro’s hand clamps down on Dirk’s thin wrist. One sharp jerk, and Dirk is outside the protection of the apartment, flailing in Bro’s iron grip like a landed fish, his breath coming in ragged, terrified gasps.
  * “Don’t be like that, little man. You an’ me, we’re gonna have some fun.”




	27. fiat voluntas mea

The blood drains from Rose’s face. She tries to shout, to protest, but her voice is gone, stolen by the shock of what Bro has done. He’s holding Dirk like an angry parent about to drag their wayward son out of the mall, but there’s nothing parental about him. He’s enjoying Dirk’s struggles, basking in Dave’s anger and fear. He _likes_  hurting them.

He wants to hurt them more.

Dirk’s breathing is awful to hear, too fast and harsh. He half-kneels on the fire escape and pulls ineffectively at Bro’s hand, swallowing back sobs with an effort beyond most nine-year-olds. He looks from Dave to Rose and back again, begging for help.

Dave lands on the metal railing with a thud that shakes the whole landing, a piece blood-stained fabric fluttering away on the cold breeze behind him. He flexes his hands, his eyes glowing that living, vivid red. “Let him go!”  
  
Bro laughs. “Seriously? Dave, c'mon, we both know y'ain’t gonna do nothin’. Get too close, an’ I might have to have a li'l accident.”  
  
He jerks Dirk’s wrist, and the boy cries out.  
  
Rose opens her mouth, then closes it again, her mind flying in a million pointless directions. She’s useless. He’s stronger than Dave was. She has to do something. This is her fault. She was supposed to be watching Dirk. Dirk is in her care, _this is her fault_.

She puts both palms to the cold glass, touches the pitted wooden sash.   
  
Oh. _Yes_.  
  
Abruptly, if undoubtedly as slow as a tortoise to the vampires outside, she throws the window open as wide as it will go. The breeze becomes a wind, tosses her hair and her skirt back, trying to push her into the apartment.  
  
Bro snorts, tilting his head in amusement as if his little tag-along sister is hanging on his shirttail. “Shit, what do you want? Wait, lemme guess. You want me to take you instead of him. That’s what you were gonna say, right?” He shakes Dirk, and both the boy and Dave make matching sounds of pain. “Sacrifice yourself for the poor widdle baby? How predictable. You guys are so boring. It’s been 70 years, Dave, ain’t you got anythin’ new around here?”

Rose puts both hands into her pockets, looking down as if gathering her nerve. She forces herself to swallow, both for effect and to wet her throat. When she looks up again, still safe behind the invisible magic line of the domicile, Bro is watching her, his grin ugly.  
  
She sees herself in his pointed sunglasses, small and washed out.  
  
Dave inches forward, snarling, and Bro’s attention flicks to the other man, one blond eyebrow arching in a challenge.

Rose drops her shields. Magic floods her body as fast as thought, and in that fraction of a second, the wind reverses, a gale exploding from inside the building. She throws her arms wide open, flinging every last herb and vial she has at the monster holding Dirk.

“ _EXURERE_!”

 _Burn_.


	28. "Exurere"

_by tumblr user madragingven_


	29. well that's new

  * Fire explodes over Bro like water bursting from a broken dam.
  * Bro shouts, flinging his arms up to protect himself, and Dave rockets across the tiny space, slamming into Dirk and throwing them both into Rose. All three of them topple through the open window into the apartment, colliding with the wood floor in a painful tangle of elbows and knees.  
  * The repulsive scents of basil, rose, and verbena gust into the air as Bro flails at the clinging flames. Rose sits up, gasping for the breath that was knocked out of her while Dirk grabs at Dave, his hands shaky and his small nails sharp.
  * The more familiar tangs of singed hair and cooked flesh join the growing stench. Gouts of white smoke disproportionate to the actual fire roil angrily, filling the fire escape and spilling over the sill into the apartment. Dave turns Dirk’s head to keep him from looking, pressing Dirk’s cheek to his chest, smoothing the kid’s soft hair and kissing the top of his head.
  * And then the flames vanish. Dave and Rose stare out at the silent figure on the landing, barely discernible through the smoggy haze. Something clatters over the window sill and falls to the floor.
  * Bro’s sunglasses lay beneath the window, the half-melted plastic still hissing with heat.
  * When they look up again, the wind is blowing the last of the smoke away. The fire escape is empty. Bro is gone. 




	30. gather up

They stay where they are for a few more minutes, characters in a horror movie waiting for that last big scare. When nothing comes but the night breeze, Rose looks questioningly at Dave. 

He looks back and shrugs, his lean, perfect shoulders moving more smoothly than any human’s ever did. His eyes are still red, but they’re no longer glowing. There’s a small spot of blood by his temple, and a lot of blood crusted around the cuffs of his slacks. “I think you scared him off.”

She shakes her head, her mussed hair falling into her face. She tugs her headband off and pushes it back into place almost unconsciously. “I doubt he’s ever scared of anything. He’s too full of himself.”

“I don’t know. Maybe he learned something. But if you hadn’t been here…” Dave glances at the open window, then down at Dirk. He hugs the boy tight. “I think luck was on our side tonight.”  
  
“Really?” she says slowly. A little tired, and maybe a little left-over freaked out, she can’t stop her lips from quirking up at the corner and adding, “Because it would appear you _lost your shirt_ betting on me.”

“What? No, Rose, we’re all …” Her meaning sinks in, and Dave stares, his expression flat. “You did not. You did not make a pun.”

Rose’s smile expands. For some reason, she wants to laugh. “My apologies. I’m a little giddy. My esoteric sense of humour is _revealing_ itself.”

“Okay, sure, give me shit over a shirt when some serious fucking crap just happened.”

She tries to cover her senseless mirth with a cough. “Of course. I shouldn’t have -”   
  
“I mean, that kind of humour is _off-brand_ at best.”

“Did you just -”

“The _naked_ truth is it really doesn’t _fit right_.”

“That wasn’t even -”  
  
“Not exactly _tailor-made_ to the situation at hand.”

She groans, covering her face with her hands. “All right, I’m outclassed, I admit it! Please, they're terrible, cease and desist before - ”

“Rose?” Dirk shifts, turning his head so he can see the window. “Can we…” He pauses to chew on his lower lip. “…close it now?”  
  
That gets them to stop, and exchange contrite glances. Dave stands effortlessly, still holding Dirk. “Sure, kiddo. Let’s do it right -”

"Not you!” Dirk says, his voice higher than normal. He leans back as if wanting to move away from the window, but unwilling to let go of Dave. “Don’t!”  
  
“Dirk’s right.” Rose hurriedly gets to her feet, fighting off a brief wave of dizziness. Too many spells in too short a time, but she can’t rest yet. Dirk still needs them. “I’ll do it. You need a bath, and badly. Why don’t you take him with you? You can both wash up, put on fresh pyjamas. I’ll have a special treat waiting for you when you get back.”

Her experience as a babysitter stands her in good stead. Treats are universally interesting, and Dirk takes the bait. “… What is it?”

“Something yummy.” And fortified. Dirk has seen too much; he needs to be coddled and calmed so his mind can heal. One more small, kitchen magic to help him sleep won’t be amiss.  
  
Dave squeezes Dirk and runs a hand over the boy’s cheek. “Sounds good, huh? You okay with that?”

Dirk nods. "Can it be… hot chocolate?”

Rose nods back gravely, already running through recipes in her head. “That’s a definite possibility.”  
  
“Okay, if that’s settled…” Dave motions toward the bathroom. “We’ll be back in a minute. And Rose, uh. The couch is pretty comfortable, in case you haven’t noticed. Turns into a bed, too. I think we’d both like it if you stayed the night. Right, buddy?” He nuzzles Dirk, who nods again.  
  
Rose’s smile returns, smaller than before, but grateful. Walking home was the last thing she wanted to do, but she wasn’t about to impose if the two of them needed to be alone. “I was hoping you’d say that. Now shoo.” She flaps her hand at them. “And don’t come back til you’re squeaky clean.”


	31. that's a wrap

  * The shower is warm, the water soothing. Dave washes Dirk’s hair and helps him rinse it, then scrubs him all over with his green frog loofah. Dirk basks in the attention, and insists that Dave kneel down so Dirk can scrub Dave, too.
  * Once they’re dry and dressed – Dirk in his second-favorite My Little Pony pjs, Dave in plaid sleep pants and a t-shirt – Dave leads them out to the living room. Dirk keeps hold of Dave’s hand and walks a little too close.
  * They watch the Disney Channel, Dirk cuddled up against Dave on the futon, Rose sipping tea. Dave and Rose rest their feet on the coffee table. Dirk drinks his promised hot cocoa, nibbling at the tiny marshmallows Rose included.
  * Dirk falls asleep around three in the morning, during a replay of Anne of Green Gables. Dave picks him up, settling him against Dave’s shoulder. Dirk sighs in his sleep. He’s big enough that his legs dangle down, his bare toes brushing Dave’s thigh.
  * Dave turns to bid Rose good-night, but she, too, is already asleep. He takes the empty mug out of her hand and covers her with the blanket from the back of the couch. She looks younger without her superior expression.
  * It’s.. weird to have someone. Not just someone to touch, but someone who knows what he is and doesn’t mind. _Two_ someones. After all this time hiding. Being alone.
  * “Guess I’m lucky all over again, hm, kiddo? Whatever, tonight you’re sleeping with me. I’m not letting you out of my sight."



 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guest art by madragingven.tumblr.com :)


	32. epilogue

Rose wakes up to stiffness in her neck and a vague soreness in every other part of her body. She stifles a soft groan as she sits up, rubbing the sleep from one eye before remembering about her eyeliner and smothering another groan of a completely different nature.

She considers running home to fix her makeup and take a shower, but Dave doesn’t seem to have gotten Dirk up yet, and after last night, she’s reluctant to leave without checking in with them. Well, maybe he’s letting Dirk sleep. Goddess knows the boy needs it. It’s good for them to spend this time together, especially since Dave will soon be handing Dirk over to Rose’s care.

There’s no way the kid is going to school today, not until they all have a much-needed chat.

She stretches with another uncomfortable sound and goes to put on the kettle. She plunks a teabag of her favorite chai into a surprisingly bright Garfield mug, glancing at the little red clock on the microwave while she waits. Her jaw drops at the time.

_“Ten thirty?”_

There’s no way. It can’t be that late. No - well - maybe it could be, but - No, it’s just not possible. It can’t be two hours past the time Dave usually turns in.

Except it is.

She hurries out of the kitchen and over to one of the windows. Yanking aside the blackout curtain, she recoils at the hot brightness of the late-morning sun. “Oh, no. Oh, Dave, no.”

She all but flies down the hall, her socked feet silent on the hardwood. She reaches Dirk’s room, but it’s empty. She spins around, coming face to face with Dave’s closed door. Her heart skips a beat. He never closes it unless he’s asleep. Did he take Dirk with him? What happens if he wakes up and forgets who Dirk is, or why he’s there? What if he wakes up hungry? What if he scares Dirk again? Oh, Goddess, why didn’t she stay awake last night?

She grabs the knob and turns it hard, expecting the mechanism’s lock to keep the thing still. Instead, it rotates easily beneath her weight. The door swings inward, almost throwing her off-balance, and she stumbles inside with a tiny squeak of surprise.

Dirk and Dave are on the bed on top of the covers. David is curled around Dirk, spooning him from behind, his arm over Dirk’s waist. Dirk’s fingers are threaded with Dave’s slack ones. Dirk’s small chest rises and falls with slow regularity. Dave’s doesn’t move at all.

Rose sucks in a breath, then lets it out slowly. She walks to the bed, eyes locked warily on Dave, but he’s still. Not just still, but _unmoving_. He’s got the same lifeless stillness as a stone or a piece of bread someone dropped on the floor. No potential, no expectation for possible movement. He’s not Dave anymore, he’s … gone.

It should be creepy, but somehow, it’s fascinating.

But not for a child who’s recently lost his parents, and been terrorized by someone claiming to be related. Dirk needs to be somewhere else, out of this room. She touches Dirk’s shoulder. “Dirk? Wake up, dear. It’s morning.”

He opens his eyes without grogginess or hesitation. He wasn’t asleep after all.

“Time to get up. We don’t want to waste the day, do we?”

His gaze meets hers, open and full of the pure conviction of the young. “He’s dead, isn’t he.” It’s not a question.

Surprise hits first, but why should she be surprised? Dirk’s a genius, or close enough to it, and even if he wasn’t, he’s been through so much that losing another parent is almost a foregone conclusion. But he’s technically right.

She hesitates, any number of reassuring lies on her lips, but falsehoods won’t help him. Still, the truth needs to be in there somewhere.  "… in a way.“

He holds up Dave’s hand, running his thumb over the side of it. “He’s cold. Feel it.”

She does. Dave’s skin is like latex, pliable but chilly. There’s no heat at all, not even where Dirk’s thumb had been. “Dirk…”

“He laid down with me because I had a bad dream.” Dirk studies Dave’s palm as he explains, then Dave’s fingers, angling them this way and that in a manner that tells her he’s been doing this for a while. “I wanted him to, and he did it. I was happy ‘cause he never sleeps with me. My mom did sometimes, but not Dave. This is the first time. And right after, he… He kind of… He got really heavy…”

“Dirk, it’s all right. You don’t have to say anything.”

Her charge shrugs. “He didn’t tell me this would happen.”

Rose nods reluctantly. “I’m sorry. He probably didn’t want to scare you.”

Dirk lowers Dave’s hand, though he doesn’t let go. “I’m not scared.”

“No? Then what’s wrong?”

He shrugs again, but this time his eyes fill with tears. “… Does it hurt? When he dies, does it hurt him?”

Rose doesn’t have the answer. Maybe it does hurt, though all the research she’s done in the past weeks would suggest otherwise. She makes an educated guess, and this time, for his sake, she doesn’t care if it turns out to be partly false. “No, honey. It’s like when you fall asleep. It doesn’t hurt, don’t worry.”

Dirk takes this in, a small crease appearing between his brows. He lifts Dave’s arm again, sits up, and carefully tucks the limb back in beside Dave. “I just… don’t want him to be alone when it happens. He laid down with me so I wouldn’t be scared by myself. It’s not fair.”

“Maybe not,” she says. “But it’s how it is. We can’t do much about it. He needs to sleep sometimes, just like you and me.”

“Yeah.” He kneels on the bed and drags his half of the comforter over Dave, patting it into place, trying to cover as much of his older brother as he can. “But maybe, since he already let me see this time, I can do it next time, too. So he’s not alone.”

“That might be acceptable. You should ask him when he gets up.” Rose steps back from the bed and waves toward Dave’s door. She’s still not sure whether or not Dirk is handling this well, and she wants to feed him and cuddle him a little more. “For now, we should go. Let him rest.”

Dirk nods. “Okay. Oh, wait.” He leans over, kisses Dave on the forehead, and says softly, “Night, Dave.” 

He slides off the bed and takes hold of Rose’s skirt, still clingy - not that she blames him. “I’m gonna ask him,” he decides authoritatively. “And if he says no, I’ll tell him my continued mental health depends on it, and if he was any kind of good brother, he’d recognize that and let me help him, instead of trying to drive me into the insane asylum.”

Rose can’t stop the eclat of laughter, though she claps a hand over her mouth as soon as it escapes. She shoots a glance at Dave, but of course he doesn’t move. “Dirk Strider!” she hisses. “Where on Earth did you get that?”

“CSI,” Dirk says proudly. “Think it’ll work?”

“Goddess help us,” Rose says, rolling her eyes as she ushers Dirk out of the room. “It just might.”


End file.
